Bittersweet
by just-grey
Summary: JohnElizabeth. 'Teyla is the first to approach her. John has not moved. Rodney doesn’t know what to do. Ronon just stares.'


**Disclaimer:** _Don't own, don't sue. Deal? Awesome._

**Notes:** _So I made a Sparky fanmix, right? Right. So originally, I had just planned to do the fanmix. But, as I was listening to the fanmix words just popped out and couldn't stop. This isn't my first SGA fic, but it is my first John/Liz fic. I'm a little iffy about the fic, but if you would tell me what you think it would be awesome.  
_

* * *

John isn't quite sure if he feels _real_ feelings anymore. He feels numb now. He feels like glass, solid, together, but able break at any moment. Like a hurricane, destroying, leaving, wanting more. He knows many things, he knows when he _feels something_, but it is an out of body feeling. He cannot control feeling what he feels; he cannot be numb, as much as he _feels_ it. He misses her, misses finding her at her desk in the wee hours of the morning, watching cheesy horror movies the Deadalous had brought – _"John, pass the popcorn." John smirked beside her, handing her the small bag as Elizabeth sat engrossed with the movie. "You know obsession you have for this crap is unhealthy." She turned then, snickered, and playfully slapped his chest. John threw an arm across her shoulders._ – in the wee hours, when he would find her at her desk. He knows he felt kindness, warmth, love, when he had held Teyla's child. He knows he felt relief, happiness, pain, when Dr. Keller was consumed by the strange alien. He knows he feels many things, but he doesn't, no, he doesn't _really_ feel them.

But he knows he feels longing, regret, sadness, when he thinks of Elizabeth.

* * *

His quarters seem a mile away. The hallway is dark as he walks into its void. His footsteps are heavy, his mind is crowded. He looks to his left; he looks to his right and concludes that he doesn't really know where he is going. Until he looks in front of him. Her quarters are a step away. He knows her quarters are empty. Pale, bland and dark, all at the same time. He was the one to remove her things. Her clothes, her books, the Athosion jar she kept by her bed. He was the one to leave her. Alone, never knowing if rescue would come, but hoping – knowing they would try something, _anything_ – they wouldn't for fear of Atlantis and its people, _her_ people, _her_ city. He was the one who failed her, who didn't go back for her. _Never leave a man behind._ So why had he left her? Why had he taken her? Put her into danger – _"Elizabeth, you don't have to do this." His eyes searched hers; she stared back with equal force. "John, you know I have to." He swallowed thickly, grabbing her hands. He watched as she shut her eyes, breathing in slowly. He watched as she broke._ – just when she had escaped it. He tells himself that it wasn't his fault. He tells himself that it is the replicators fault. That it is their entire fault.

John tries to believe this.

* * *

He doesn't know how he came to be in her room. As he sits on her bed, her deep red sheets still there, he wants to cry. The room is dark, empty and it resembles nothing of Elizabeth, but for the deep red sheets and the smells of her. He can still smell the distinct scent of her airy perfume in the room, on the sheets, in the air. John breathes in the air of her room and tries to conjure up a vision of her in front of him. He tries to remember what her voice sounds like – _"What are you doing here John?" He stared at her, sitting in her desk, tired, dark shadows underneath her eyes. "Taking care of you, someone has to." – _but getting very little. Tries to remember what she would say to him if he would come to her at 4 o'clock in the morning. He can't remember what her hand on his arm feels like. It is hard. He has lost her. He knows that there is a very slim chance that she is still alive.

He tries to remember what her smile looks like. He frowns when he cannot.

* * *

They are on a planet now. John vaguely remembers Teyla calling it Terra. He can smell rain in the sky. He knows it will come down hard, and they must find shelter soon. He hears Teyla speaking. She is telling them she spots a village. John nods, but Teyla's voice barely reaches his ears. They walk slowly; John can hear Rodney complaining, Ronon's heavy footfall behind them all – alert, always, ready – Teyla's soft feet in front of him, her face calm. The smell of rain is almost unbearable – _Loud pitter patter could be heard around the city. John went to Elizabeth's office in hopes of getting her to watch a new movie that the Deadalous had brought. He could not find her there. John walked toward the cafeteria then, figuring, maybe, she had finally gotten something to eat. He spotted her standing outside, on their balcony, in the rain, as he neared toward the cafeteria. She was shivering, had no jacket on. John considered calling Carson. "'Lizabeth? What are you doing out here?" His voice sounded different in the hard rain, foreign. He saw her shrug as he stood next to her. "I don't know," She had whispered. John nodded._ – and John struggles against the distant smell of it. When the rain finally comes, as they reach the village, tucked safe and warm in a friendly village hut, John wonders, _what if_.

A woman, deathly ill, walks slowly and weakly past with an escort, helping her walk. John believes his heart stops.

* * *

He hears Teyla gasp, Ronon grunt, Rodney drop a plate of food. John does not move. He dares not breathe. There she is. Or, what resembles her. A sickly state, shivering, clutching her stomach, she sits. Winces, as she moves. She hisses as she winces. That hiss, the hiss John hears, the same he heard almost a year ago – _"Do you have your report, John?" He had handed her the paper, his normal smug grin on his face. She skimmed through it, turning the page to read more and then hissed. "'Lizabeth? You okay?" He had asked in worry, fearing the worst yet again. He watched as she sucked on her finger and nodded. "Paper cut." She said lamely, and they both chuckled. – _is Elizabeth; the way her lips tighten, her eyes squeeze shut, her hiss screams her name.

It is silent as they watch her, sitting, looking smaller than she had before, her clothes hanging off her body, hissing the hiss that screams Elizabeth, clutching her stomach and shivering.

It is then that John starts to believe in God.

* * *

Teyla is the first to approach her. John has not moved. Rodney doesn't know what to do. Ronon just stares. The three men watch as Teyla hesitantly touches Elizabeth's arm. The three men suck in a breath as Elizabeth flinches, not in pain, but in fear, her eyes wide and frightened. John does not move. Teyla whispers something. John cannot hear. Elizabeth is shaking. John cannot see. Teyla is smiling, Elizabeth is crying. John cannot feel. Her eyes meet his and she sobs, covering her mouth to hide it. Teyla helps her up, and Elizabeth's hand goes to her stomach once again. Teyla is speaking; Elizabeth is wincing and hissing again. Teyla's voice is concerned, worried, frightened. John realizes Teyla's frightened for Elizabeth. He wants to ask why; he wants to hold Elizabeth up instead of Teyla. Instead, he walks outside – _Rodney had never seen either one of them that mad before. Elizabeth's face was flushed, John's nose flared. They yelled, pointed, Elizabeth almost screamed Suddenly, John walked out of her office, leaving her angry and alone. She followed after him after a lapse. She found him at their balcony. "I can't loose you John," She whispered from behind him. He turned, his eyes wide. She watched with cautious eyes as he walked toward her, his steps slow and meaningful. He gently grabbed her shoulders. "You will never lose me 'Lizabeth. Never."_ – and he sighs when he hears her slowly follow, Teyla's voice in the distant. She walks very slowly, he hears her hisses, and finally stands beside him, the rain softly falling down on her hair, onto her forehead, clouding her vision. He turns to look at her, and that's when he sees her, when he finally _really sees_ her_, really_ feels her, _hears_ her. He _wants to feel her._

He does not say anything to her. John does not say anything, he merely takes her hand, threading their fingers together. She looks mildly shocked at the touch at first, but he smiles at her and she smiles back. John does not know what happened to her, or how she got away from the replicators, where she got the small scar by her hairline that wasn't there before, but he doesn't care. Because the feeling of her soft and worn hand in his own, the feeling of the gentle rain dripping down his nose, its bittersweet, it's a feeling John knows, and he doesn't want to end.

_This_ is their bittersweet memory.

* * *

_Tell me what you thought?_


End file.
